The Mess I Made
by Shai Butter
Summary: It was his choice. He chose this. It's what he'd wanted, right? And now that she's hurt...what is he to do? She hadn't chosen this life and yet she had to accept it. Finally the hurt takes over and she can escape. Bella/Edward. Emotional. Give it a


**This is the first thing that I've written since _ABOAR_. I really haven't had any inspiration lately, but I was listening to "The Mess I Made" by Parachute today and this is what came to my mind. It's inspired by a broken heart. Enjoy and review!**

**-Ebony  
**

The rain pounded on the windshield in an unforgiving rush of drops. The wiper blades worked against the glass and yet they did nothing. It was still just as blurry. A young girl stared out at the black vastness in front of her. Her tears were mirroring the storm outside. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator. The rev of the engine was strangely comforting to her. It reminded her. Memories flashed through her head as lightning broke up the darkness. Silently, she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. The car sped up and she felt a rush flow from her head to the tips of her toes. The hair on her body stood on end and she shivered. Blinking the burning tears from her eyes, the girl continued down the highway. It was eerily empty that night. Flicking her eyes to her mirrors, she could see nothing in the veil of rain. Perhaps a few other cars were passing, but she couldn't tell. A song played quietly on her radio. She reached her hand over to the dial and turned up the volume. A familiar melody filled her car and the tears she'd tried so hard to get rid of came back with a vengeance. This time the sobs weren't silent. A quiet whimper fell from her lips and her foot pressed that much harder on the pedal. She no longer cared about the speed. Her only thought was escaping everything that she'd been surrounded with. No more people looking at her with questioning eyes. No more pretending to smile. No more meaningless encounters in hopes of forgetting. She was done with all of it. She didn't want it anymore. She told herself that she wasn't sure what she wanted, but that was a lie. She knew exactly what she wanted. It was him. Him and only him. Nothing more. Nothing less. With him, everything worked. It all fell into place perfectly. In a life without him, nothing worked. Everything came crashing down and nothing seemed to fit. It was as if she were three years old again and trying to finish a puzzle. The pieces all confused her and in a vain attempt to complete it, she forced pieces into places that they really didn't belong. Such was life without him. So many confusing pieces and no idea of how to fit them in. And so she took the pieces and pushed them into a place that they didn't necessarily belong. But she made them fit. Forced them. Bent and distorted versions what they'd started as. Lost in her thoughts, the girl didn't notice a pair of headlights that magically appeared out of the storm. Her foot hadn't let up on the pedal so her speed was almost out of her control. The needle inched its way further up the scale and before she knew it a horn was blaring in her ear and her heart sped up. Switching her foot over to the brake as soon as she could, she stomped on it with as much force as she could. No good. Too late. Contact had been made and she was spinning. She closed her eyes and saw a face. A familiar, warm face. Her car was still going fast but slowing down with each revolution. She felt another hit from the side of the rode. Squeezing her eyes tighter, the face became clearer. His warm brown eyes stared into her soul. Her heart slowed and she allowed herself to sink deep into the pain that was surging through her. All her thoughts were turned to the deep, dark eyes that had given her so much comfort. She loved those eye. She loved him. And would always. A dark, excruciating fog began to cloud everything. With a goodbye to the face, she let it all go. She escaped.

"…oh I'm staring at the mess I made…"

Ever since he'd re-met her, a certain young man would always be on the lookout for accidents. He'd slow down just to make sure it wasn't her. Even now he did. Regardless of their situation, he couldn't stand the thought of her getting anymore hurt than she already was. He was driving down a familiar highway that certain stormy night. He'd passed these places so many times just a month before. And now it was as if he never came down this way. He had no reason to anymore. He had to remind himself that it was his doing. The rain had let up a little and he could see red and blue lights shining up ahead. He almost subconsciously slowed his car down and turned his head to look at what had happened. Another accident. What a night. His eyes searched the crowd of people, not really expecting to see her, but he looked anyway. A flash of purple reached his eyes as he got closer to the scene. He knew that shirt. He'd bought that shirt. His pulse racing, the young man slowed his car completely and ran out. There was a human blockade around the pile of metal scraps that looked as though they'd been a beautiful Dodge Charger at one point in time. Fear coursed through his heated veins and his heart began to beat double time. The world began spinning around him. Everything was turning into a dizzying maze. He stumbled to a smaller group of people who were surrounding something that he couldn't see. The purple then flashed in the blinking lights of the ambulance. The purple of the shirt he'd bought. A waterfall of dark brown hair was skewed across the road. A man in navy blue was crouched next to the dark haired, purple shirted figure. Another navy suited man was looking intently at a phone he had in his hand. He seemed frustrated. His eyes squinted and finally… recognition. He pressed a button and put the phone up to his ear. Suddenly, the young man felt his own phone buzz in his pocket. His stomach dropped and his heart stopped. Turning away from the scene for a moment, he looked at the screen and a part of him died when he saw the name on it. He answered and was informed that, as per request, he was being contacted on behalf of her. Her family couldn't be contacted and he was next on the list. His fears had become a reality. He hung up the phone after listening silently to what the man had to tell him. Turning back around, he began to shake violently, unsure of how to handle what he now knew. Ever so slowly, the young man made his way to the figure on the ground. The men in navy looked up at him for the first time. Words were exchanged, explanations made and the young man was permitted to come closer. Staring at the ground, he could see the ring on the figure's right hand. Her hand. It was flipped upside down. He should have expected that. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? It was his doing. He had no right to hurt at that. His eyes traveled up from the hand and to the purple shirt. He remembered that day very well, the day he bought the shirt. She's argued quite adamantly, but he refused to listen. He'd told her that he didn't have anything more important to spend his money on. She reluctantly agreed, but only allowed him to buy her the one shirt. It looked beautiful on her so he didn't complain. The rich, purple color was now covered with dirt and blood. His eyes continued up and finally reached her face. He could recall every smile, every smirk. That same angelic face was now seemingly lifeless. There was no smile. Her eyes weren't sparkling with laughter. It was just there. And yet the beauty of it beamed. It glowed in the darkness. He silently prayed for some flicker of movement to let him know that she was okay. She saw nothing. Looking expectantly at the man crouched by her side, he pleaded for a report. She was badly broken. She'd been terribly hurt. But she could live. She was fighting. Fighting hard. Relief swept through the young man as the wind tousled his hair. For the first time that night, the young man felt the burning tears stream down his chilled face. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. He was supposed to leave her life and she was supposed to be okay. But she wasn't. Was it his fault? Thoughts and questions whirled around his head as at last the men lifted her into the back of the truck. Without thinking, the young man walked toward it, expecting to ride with her. He was stopped and asked for his relation to the girl, family, husband, boyfriend. He was none. Not anymore. He answered no. And as he did he broke even more. He again reminded himself that it was his doing. He'd wanted this. The man apologized but informed him that he could not ride with her. The young man walked slowly back to his car in the middle of the familiar highway. He got in and drove. He thought about following the truck that was carrying the girl he'd once adored. Did he still? Of course he did. But should he follow it? He shouldn't. He'd chosen this path. He'd chosen to let her go. And he couldn't expect her to allow him back. And so he turned around and drove away to his own escape. Away from the hurt he'd seen and experienced. Away from the person who needed his love the most. And yet he didn't know it. He'd chosen this. It was his choice.

"…I'm staring at the mess I made…"


End file.
